Incantation
by Literaryluminations
Summary: Elsa/Elphaba femslash. For a dear friend's birthday.


She arrives under the cover of darkness, navy cloak matching the crisp summer night. Her parents usher their guest into the castle through the servant's entrance as Elsa watches from a window above.

"Elsa!" Her own name startles her. Elsa clutches her gloved hands to her chest, thankful no ice appeared around her. Anna is standing in behind her, grinning. She's bigger than Elsa remembers, with her long brown hair in two plaits. "Is your tutor here?"

"I think so," Elsa whispers, looking back out on the courtyard. If she ignores Anna, she'll go away, right?

Instead, Anna bounces forward and presses her little nose against the glass. "Elsa," she whispers, "That _has _to be her!"

Anna's nearness makes Elsa nervous. She can feel the heat radiating from her sister, who won't stop moving or talking. Elsa's fingers tingle and she tries to snuff out the feeling of dread that follows. A chill radiates around her, coating the windowpane in a layer of frost. She pulls her hands away, but nothing halts the spread of her curse.

"Anna." Her voice edges on hysterical. Anna can't know, she _can't_, why does she _do _that to her? Elsa was already anxious about meeting a new person, and Anna's exuberance made it _worse_. She had control until her sister showed up, and now Elsa had lost control and she was _frightened_. "Anna, go away, _please_."

Anna, all too used to her sister's sharpness, sighs _fine _and bounces off toward the kitchen. Elsa can breathe once Anna leaves, but she's still upset about the windowpane. _Conceal, don't feel. Make it go away. _

The cloaked figure pauses for a moment and hitches her chin toward the high window. Her skin glows emerald in the light from her lantern. She can see a small, blonde figure up in the window, scrubbing the panes with her sleeve. Elphaba wiggles her fingers up at the girl. Her head snaps up, and she gives Elphaba a brief fearful look before ducking under the window.

_Perfect_, Elphaba thinks as she's ushered inside. _She'll be a fun one to teach. _

* * *

Elsa's father brings her breakfast the next morning. She takes her meals alone, coming out only for brief teatime on good days.

"Elsa," he clears his throat, "Your tutor arrived yesterday evening. She is kind, and you will be safe with her. She is excited to teach you, and says she will be ready by this afternoon. We trust that you will be on your best behavior and there will be no accidents during your lessons, yes?"

His eyes crinkle kindly, but his gray eyes are worried. Elsa whispers that she'll be fine. She doesn't think she will be, but she can't speak around the lump in her throat to tell her father how anxious she is. He leaves, and Elsa tugs on an extra pair of protective gloves. _Don't let it show. _

Afternoon comes, and Elsa makes her way to her tutor's room. Her footfalls echo through the empty halls and she quickens her pace to get away from the silence. She arrives at the door and knocks thrice, then takes a step back and curtseys. The door swings open and a warm, dry voice says:

"None of that nonsense. Come in, please."

Elsa blushes and straightens, and then gasps at the woman standing in front of her. She has long, black hair that glows blue in a long plait over her shoulder, and guarded, intelligent brown eyes that glint green and gold. Her clothes are glorified rags and silver rimmed glasses sit on the end of her long, thin nose. Everything about her is angles, from her sharp cheekbones to her bony elbows and prominent jawline. And, shockingly, her skin is the color of Elsa's favorite velvet skirt: rich, smooth green. Elsa thinks she's beautiful.

"It's rude to stare." The woman snaps on her heel and goes to sit at a desk. In front of her is a stack of books, a golden hawk feather quill, and a bottle of ink. Elsa tentatively goes to sit opposite this fearsome woman.

"My name is Elphaba," the woman begins, "I will be a second-year in the fall at Shiz University, in the Land of Oz. I study history. I'm here to tutor you this summer, to catch you up to your peers and prepare you to one day lead this country. Does this sound like an acceptable arrangement?"

Elsa nods, then remembers her manners and says, "Yes, Miss Elphaba."

A long, spindly, very green hand waves her off. "None of that. Elphaba please. You are Elsa, correct?"

"Yes."

"And you can read?"

Elsa prickles. The temperature drops by a few degrees, and she struggles to control it. "Of course."

Elphaba raises her eyebrow. "Not everyone can, Miss Elsa. Best you don't become elitist, my pet."

Elsa's ears burn at the nickname.

* * *

Elphaba's intelligence is as quick and fierce as her tongue. She pushes Elsa, draws the right words out of her, teaches her to spin and mold her thoughts like biting winter winds—their intensity almost feels out of place in Elphaba's stuffy quarters. Like Elsa, Elphaba does not leave the castle, or even her room except for very rare occasions under the cover of darkness. And this suits Elsa just fine: the quiet, undisturbed, unchanging space becomes a refuge. Around Elphaba, Elsa forgets her curse. For the first time in her memory, she can hold a pen without freezing the ink.

Eventually, she warms up to Elphaba, who, in her own way, grows to tolerate her as well. Elsa even manages to make Elphaba laugh; her throaty chuckles cling like ozone. Elsa is safe in Elphaba's presence, a genuine human connection never before granted to her. And her curse? Elphaba did not need to know what would not affect her, and if she ever noticed the spiderwebs of frost left on her desk after a rousing argument she gave no notice.

A few days before Midsummer, Elphaba dropped a thick red tome on the desk in front of Elsa and said, "It's time you read this. I can help translate."

Elsa placed her fingertips over the jagged, angular writing. "I recognize the script," she said, "But what is this about?"

"It's an appeal to better natures," Elphaba smirked. "The history of several nearby kingdoms—including what will one day be yours—and a plea for reunification."

Elsa's eyebrows knit together. "Reunification? But we are separate from our neighbors."

"That's a modern convention," Elphaba said. "This book will explain all. I just had it shipped in; you'll be the first to read it." And with that, she handed Elsa a paper knife. It was a little longer than her hand, and weighted. Blue gems lined the silver handle, though the silver was rubbing off and several gems were already missing.

"It was a gift from my favorite professor." The corner of Elphaba's mouth twitches and she looks almost proud. "I plan to help him with his research in the fall. He's studying humans and animals and sentient Animals."

"Sentient Animals?"

"Yes, there are many in Oz." There is a spark in Elphaba's eyes that Elsa has never seen before. "Dr. Dillamond is a Goat, and he's fighting for Animal rights—the Wizard's laws discriminate against Animals, and it's becoming increasingly dangerous in Oz for him to conduct his research. I'm so honored to be helping him."

Elsa nods, rubbing the paper knife's handle. She was not used to this passion from Elphaba and found it intimidating. This was the first piece of personal information Elphaba had shared since their introduction, and Elsa did not want to pry. And, she had a lot to ponder: there were no Animals in Arendelle, but she vividly remembers the Trolls that healed Anna. Were their rights restricted under the laws of her kingdom? She'd have to ask her father later.

Elsa moves to open the book, but a knock on the door startles her. Cold air blasts from her palm to the knife and the book, coating them in a thin, almost indiscernible layer of frost. She drops the knife and holds her hands, gloved palms out, in front of her chest.

"Elsa?" It's Anna, her voice thin and sweet like the honeysuckle she used to leave outside Elsa's door in springtime.

"Go away Anna," Elsa squeaks, too afraid to move her hands to cover the book or knife, which Elphaba is now eyeing in measured surprise. The scrutiny causes the frost to spread and thicken, much to Elsa's panic. She was going to ruin Elphaba's possessions, and Elphaba was going to know about her curse, and then Elphaba wouldn't teach her and she would be angry and her parents would be angry and Elsa would lose control and—

"But Elsa, I wanna show you my dress for Midsummer," Anna pleads. Her voice sounds far away. Elsa's heart lodges in her throat and she can't breathe.

"We're busy, Princess Anna," Elphaba brushes her fingers against the desk, which also had a layer of frost growing on it. "You can show Elsa later."

"Oh, okay…" Anna sounds sad, but Elsa can't care. She tries—and fails—to will the frost back into her palms, out of sight and out of mind. But it doesn't work and she can't catch her breath and the frost is freezing over thicker and stronger and she's dizzy, so dizzy, and—

"You never told me you had magic," Elphaba raised a thin, glossy eyebrow. She gathers her skirt in her hand and uses it to pick up her knife, inspecting it carefully before rubbing the frost off. "Ice magic too, how powerful."

Elsa stood shock-still, staring at her too-calm tutor. The frost seemed to have reached a stasis, frozen in shock with her.

Elphaba's eyes met Elsa's, warm and… pleased?

"You needn't be scared, my pet," she said. "I have magic too, though not wild like yours. My best friend Galinda and I study sorcery. Was the ice innate, or were you cursed?"

Elsa opened her mouth, but no sound came out. Her insides feel gripped by cold and she barely registers Elphaba's question. Elphaba, done cleaning her knife off, sets it on an unfrozen part of the desk. She grabs a dry part of her skirt and dabs at the book, which was encased in a thin layer of ice. Elsa slid back into her chair, clutching her hands to her chest. _She'd never—in front of—no one but her parents knew. _

"I have a curse too, poppit." Elphaba said, dragging her index finger across the frost. She winced and showed Elsa the welt that appeared, as if she had been burned. "Everyone is afflicted in some way, with some malady; ours are just visible."

"I ruined your book…" Elsa's voice is distant.

"Nothing a day or two upside-down won't cure. A book is useless if it remains pristine. Thank you for helping me break it in." Kind crinkles appear around Elphaba's eyes.

Elphaba's calm helps Elsa settle. Her hands grow warmer and her chest stops shaking. Elphaba offers her a rare smile and moves to put water up for tea. In moments, she places a chipped cup and saucer with dark, bitter in front of Elsa.

"Drink," she commands. "Drink, and then I want to hear more about your power."

Elsa drinks, and then slowly answers her tutor's questions. It is uncanny, she decides later, talking almost freely about what plagues her. Her fear and anxiety still gnaw at her stomach, but they feel muffled somehow, soothed by Elphaba's crisp speech and excited curiosity.

* * *

Elsa begins spending more and more time with Elphaba. They cover her lessons in history, art, science, arithmetic, writing—Elphaba chides that slacking will get her nowhere, and she's her teacher, damnit—before noon, and then, after a light lunch, they crack open one of Elphaba's spellbooks and Elsa devours the information held there. She doesn't have typical spell-magic, like Elphaba, but the advice found in the books is invaluable just the same. Even if she cannot master it, she knows _how _to calm down. For the first time since Anna's accident, Elsa is able to maintain her calm enough to spend time with her family. Being around so many people is exhausting, but the looks on their faces when she takes meals with them or they sit and read together makes her discomfort worthwhile. However, she genuinely enjoys spending time with Elphaba. Elphaba teaches Elsa how to navigate the twists and vaults of her power.

"It takes breath control," Elphaba tells her one rainy day, standing with her left palm over her stomach. "Breathe in for seven counts, hold for seven, and breathe out for seven—make sure it fills your torso. Come, stand and show me."

Elsa obliges, watching the rise and fall of Elphaba's chest. A weird tingle trails along her lower stomach as Elphaba moves closer to inspect Elsa's breathing. It's not the first time she's felt this way—sometimes Elsa finds herself watching Elphaba when she's talking. She gets caught up in the purr of her voice and the glinting gold in her eyes and jolts at how her smell—rich, like vanilla from old books and coconut from the oil she used to bathe—washes over her when she walks by. At night, Elsa clutches her sheets to her chest and rolls, fitfully, wishing for Elphaba's company beside her.

"Elsa," Elphaba's voice shakes her from her reverie. "_Focus_." Frost had spiraled from Elsa's boots to curl around Elphaba's, glittering and delicate instead of its usual angry jagged lines.

Elsa blushes and covers her face, steeling herself to focus on her breathing.

* * *

With Elphaba's guidance, Elsa learns how to redirect and control her powers. When she knocks over an inkwell, Elphaba's low voice calms her before she freezes the desk. A thunderclap on a clear day makes her jump, but she manages not to streak the ceiling with snow because the deep breaths Elphaba taught her have become automatic. Her ice is still wild and unpredictable and nothing Elsa does can restore what has been frozen, but she feels less alone and afraid with Elphaba there to guide her through her worst of her power.

But of course, nothing lasts. On a tepid day in late summer, Elphaba packs up her meager possessions. She leaves a few books with Elsa, but takes back those about magic because they are rare and she needs them for university.

With Elphaba gone, Elsa is inconsolable—she stays in her bed, shaking and shivering under her thin summer blanket. Anyone who disturbs her is at risk of getting hit with a blast of Elsa's power. Any control she developed was gone like a snowsquall; her anxiety increases tenfold. She knew she was being ridiculous, and was much too old to throw tantrums like this, but she couldn't help it. It was hard to breathe without Elphaba there. She was so upset she couldn't even say goodbye, and Elphaba left under the cover of darkness much like she came.

Elsa is so out of control that her family is forced to move her to another wing of the castle. She stays there until autumn, trembling and frightened because her curse was back with vengeance and she misses her friend so much she is ill.

Elsa wouldn't see her tutor for many years—after her parents' death, her coronation, almost losing Anna, learning to fully embrace her gift, and a long time into her successful reign.

* * *

Queen Elsa sleeps with her window open. She likes to feel the breeze, time her breaths to the whistling wind outside. And, maybe, she likes the possibility of a nighttime visitor—one who could access her high window, perchance.

One spring evening, shortly after the midnight bell rings, a shadow enters Elsa's room. She sits up and waits, eyebrow raised. A lanky figure slides through her open window, resting their broomstick carefully against the floor. They tear off their pointed hat and shed their outer layers with shaking, bitterly thin fingers.

Elsa's pulse freezes over and quickens, but she is not afraid. She reaches over to snap on a light, and the figure in front of her is illuminated. It is, of course, Elphaba, angular and stormy and green as ever. Now, though, a few haggard lines gather in the corners of her eyes and mouth. A purple bruise stretches across her right cheekbone to her temple. She has dark circles under her eyes that Elsa swears were not there before, but otherwise she looks the same.

"Elphaba," she breathes, rising from the bed. She holds her left hand out to gently touch the bruise. "_Elphaba_."

"My my." Elphaba's smile is halfway between a grimace and a grin. "Look who grew. You can touch me now."

Elsa preened. She might have been queen, but still, she was young and enjoyed Elphaba's admiration.

"And I see you took my advice," Elphaba curled her fingers around Elsa's. "For dealing with your neighbors."

Elsa grinned. "My coronation was exciting, as I'm sure you heard. But our trade relations are better than ever—Arendelle is flourishing. _I'm _flourishing."

Elphaba laughed, a sound which made Elsa's stomach clench. She knew what those tingles meant now, and found herself eyeing Elphaba's lips. Elphaba, oblivious, kept talking about trade and kingdoms and how proud she was.

"Elphaba," Elsa cut her off, "Why are you here?"

"Oh," Elphaba's voice dropped an octave. "I'm… something bad happened, my pet. I needed to get away. I'm travelling to the Vinkus, but couldn't keep going… I rode for so many hours, and couldn't... I need to go far away, but I can't ride any more tonight. And… I hope I'll be safe with you."

Elsa purses her lips, but accepts her answer. Elphaba looks like she hasn't had a good meal in months, and her hair, once thick and glossy, is a dull tangle down her back. Elsa reaches out and tugs on her undershirt.

"You need to bathe," she says when Elphaba swats her hands away from her stomach. "I'll ring for some food. _Stop. _You're my guest for the evening—at least give me that."

Elphaba, exhausted and starving, let Elsa undress her and steer her toward the washroom. Elsa sits at her down and cheekily brushes her lips against hers before turning and leaving the room. She was back in a moment with two jars and some soft cloths.

"The kitchens are sending up some food," she said, sitting in front of Elphaba and opening the first jar. It was a salve for bruises, which Elsa gently swipes over Elphaba's cheek. The other jar has coconut oil, scented with lavender. After Elphaba left her years ago, Elsa took to using the oil as a moisturizer—the familiar scents calm her.

Elsa dips her fingers in the oil and begins working the knots out of Elphaba's hair. Its luster returned, Elsa patiently runs her fingers through until she can glide them from Elphaba's crown to the tips of her hair without getting tangled. Then, Elsa dips one of the cloths in the oil and runs it tenderly across Elphaba's cheeks, nose and forehead. Elphaba watches her with sad, tired eyes.

Elsa _tsks _at how filthy the cloth becomes. She grabs another and runs it along Elphaba's chest, dipping in the divot of her collarbones. After her initial shock, Elsa had found Elphaba's green skin enchanting. Now, with so much revealed to her, she could hardly contain herself. Her skin was soft and pliant, dark green around her elbows and knees and pale under her arms and around her breasts. Her chest and taut belly have a salmon tinge. Strange dark scars cut across Elphaba's lower stomach and thighs. Her pubic hair was almost purple and silky. The flush across Elphaba's chest grows as Elsa watches her.

"This is okay, right?" Elsa whispers. She swallows heavily and moves to wash Elphaba's small breasts, noting with satisfaction and arousal how her dark nipples harden under Elsa's touch. She moved further downward, cleaning Elphaba's stomach and down to her hair. Then, she moves the opposite way, starting at her feet and moving up. The pile of dirty cloths grows, and Elphaba's skin gleams. Elsa cleans her back, from the nape of her neck across her prominent spine and lithe muscles to her buttocks, shivering as gooseflesh spreads across Elphaba's skin. Then, she kisses her, hard and hungry. Elphaba tangles her hands in Elsa's hair, pulling gently. Elsa moans. She trails her cloth between Elphaba's legs, stroking her. She was hot and wet and she smelled so good, all rich and musky.

Elsa dropped the cloth and slid to her knees. She ran her fingers over Elphaba's thighs, pulling them apart.

"This is still okay, right?" She asks, gazing up at Elphaba, whose head was thrown back. Elphaba chuckles and opens her legs for Elsa. The lewd move makes Elsa start; Elphaba's vulnerability both surprises and arouses her.

She kisses her way up Elphaba's thigh, pausing a moment before licking a stripe upward. Elphaba shudders. Elsa licks her again before sucking gently on her clit. She was slippery and tasted sharp, like the air before it rained. Elphaba's hips roll and she throws her arm over her face. Elsa scratches her nails up Elphaba's leg, pausing a moment before slipping one finger inside. Elphaba hisses at the intrusion, quickening the rolls of her hips. She grips at Elsa's finger. She feels_ so good_, hot and wet and soft. Elsa adds another finger and watches as Elphaba shakes. She comes with a shudder and soft, quiet moans.

Elsa withdraws her fingers slowly. She rests her head on Elphaba's thigh and kisses the crook of where her leg met her mound. Elphaba shakes with aftershocks, still hiding behind her arm.

"More, please," Elphaba begs. Elsa smirks and slides her fingers back inside, curling them. She sinks her teeth into Elphaba's thigh and sucks—she loves leaving marks. She quickens her pace and watches as Elphaba comes again.

"Fuck." Elsa doesn't know if she's ever heard Elphaba swear before. "Fuck, my pet. You are _exquisite._"

Elsa blushes and hides her smile behind her hand. She rises from her spot on the floor and bends over to kiss Elphaba deep and hard. Elsa pulls back with a grin and beckons Elphaba into her bedroom with a curl of her fingers.

Someone had left a tray of food on Elsa's bed, a hunk of sourdough and golden butter and fresh fruit. Elphaba, who had previously picked at her food and seemed to go days without eating, tore into her meal. When she finished, Elsa hands her a glass of water. Elphaba drank it down and then moved the empty tray to the floor.

"You're still dressed," Elphaba notices with an eyebrow raise. Elsa giggles and moves closer so Elphaba could peel her nightgown off. Exposed, she presses closer to Elphaba, relishing in the feel of her warm skin pressed against her own. Elphaba bites her way down to Elsa's breasts, scraping her teeth gently over her nipples. Elsa is quiet and moves like water against Elphaba's thin frame.

A sudden draft in the room causes Elphaba to shudder. Elsa, blushing, pulls her under the covers and lies with her legs spread so Elphaba can work her fingers between them. One, two, three fingers enter her, drawing out her orgasm in waves.

After a brief respite of sweet, chaste kisses, Elsa pulls Elphaba on top of her. They rock together until Elsa arches against her with a small cry. Frost shoots out of Elsa's outstretched palm, streaking her ceiling with glittering swirls. Elphaba looks up, surprised, and begins chuckling. Elsa giggles and hides behind her hands until Elphaba tugs them away from her face and kisses her deeply. They keep kissing, lazily, until Elphaba drifts off to sleep. Elsa follows soon after, holding Elphaba's head to her shoulder and running her fingers through her cool, silky hair.

Elphaba rises with the dawn, watching it spread across the sky like gold and pink rivers. She slips out of Elsa's hold, rousing her. Elsa feels Elphaba kiss her forehead, then her nose, then her lips. Elphaba whispers goodbye and kisses her lips again. She dresses silently, buttoning up her dress and tugging on her boots in the dark.

And then she's out of Elsa's window as silently as she had come in, leaving her to clutch at the coconut-scented sheets and ache for her return.


End file.
